


The Real World

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, Established Relationship, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-16
Updated: 2009-08-16
Packaged: 2018-09-03 07:25:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8702989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: The next installment in the predator!verse. Sam has changed,but how much?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

THE REAL WORLD

By Jadeadore

 

\---------------------------------------------------------

 

 

It had been seven days since the day Dean found out about Sam, and the way his little brother had changed. That day shook Dean to his very core, and he still didn’t know what to do or what to think about all of that. Sam had changed. Dean knew that Sam had demon blood in him, had known for quite some time now, but this? This was totally different. Totally and utterly unexpected.

 

Werewolf blood.

 

He remembered the moment Sam turned around, golden eyes glowing as they looked at Dean, but there was no threat in those eyes. Sam wasn’t looking at him like he was a prey and Sam was a predator, instead Dean saw something twisted in those eyes, and if he didn’t know better, he could have sworn it was affection. And he was not even sure if he knew better.

 

And goddammit he was confused.

 

Sam was gone now. After those last words – _”Not all the way, anyway”_ -he had just vanished. He had been gone for seven days now, and no matter what Sam was or might be now, Dean still missed him. Sam was still a part of him, like a limp, and Dean felt incomplete, like that limp had been amputated, ripped off of him, but the phantom ache was there, and every waking moment it reminded him of Sam.

 

_Where are you, little brother?_

 

*

 

Sam stood in the shadows. It was dark, but with his new eyes the night was as clear as day. He saw Dean sitting on Bobby’s porch, nursing a bottle of beer and looking lost.

 

Sam wanted to go to him, to touch him, to smell him, but he knew it was too soon. He had to wait, give Dean time to think this through until his brother had come into some sort of conclusion.

 

Would he start hunting Sam? Sam knew he wasn’t human anymore. Partially, yes, but now with two different kinds of cursed blood pumping through his veins he knew, that he had become one of the things they hunted, or, as it was for Sam now, used to hunt. 

 

He had no idea if he even was a hunter anymore, or if he had turned into a prey. Or if he should turn into a predator that hunted hunters. But that didn’t seem appealing. He knew he hadn’t changed that much. His senses were higher, all of them, and he had more strength than he had had before, but he didn’t turn into a werewolf during the full moon. He didn’t crave for blood or human flesh. The idea of ripping someone’s heart out and eating it was disgusting.

 

_What the hell am I?_

 

*

 

Dean stared into the darkness of the night, and he could almost swear he could feel Sam, his presence, like Sam was somewhere near, and if that was true, Dean really didn’t know if he should have felt worried or relieved.

 

Maybe there was still something left of Sam. There _had_ to be a part that wasn’t a beast but still his brother. Sam used to be so kind, so gentle and sensitive, and the idea of Sam –Sammy, _his_ Sammy –turning to a bloodthirsty predator just didn’t make any sense. There had to be Sam, his brother, his lover, still inside of what he had become. Sam had fought the demon blood in him, hadn’t given in to darkness, and Dean had to believe that Sam would fight this as well. Sam was strong, and Dean needed to believe that Sam would win this battle as well.

 

He knew that it maybe was all just wishful thinking, but he couldn’t even think about the fact that he might have lost Sam for good. It simply hurt too much. So much he didn't even want to think about it, but that was easier said than done. Sam was under his skin, so deep that Dean didn't think he could ever get his little brother out. 

 

He didn't know if he even wanted to. 

 

In the darkness Dean thought he saw a pair of glowing eyes, but just shrugged and concentrated on his beer. It was probably just a cat, eyes reflecting the dim light coming from the lantern hanging on Bobby’s porch.

 

Just a cat, nothing more.

 

*

 

Sam stared at Dean, he couldn’t help it, and for a short moment he could’ve sworn that Dean was looking right at him, their eyes meeting for a second, until Dean shrugged and looked back at his bottle like the piece of glass could provide him some answers. Dean looked miserable, and Sam felt like there were two different forces fighting inside of him. The other part of him was sickly satisfied because hey, he had spent two weeks in that damn underground prison thinking he was going insane, and all the time Dean had known where he was but hadn’t even left a note. One simple note – _‘I’m okay. This is all for a reason. Trust me on this.’_ –would have been enough, but no, Dean just let him dwell in his insecurity and fear until they were almost drowning him. And the fear of dying...

 

All his life Sam had been afraid for Dean, for Dad, afraid that they would get hurt and die, but he had never been afraid for himself. But in that small space where silence had been his only company, Sam had learned how it felt to be afraid for himself. And Dean had brought that upon him. Dean had taught him how it felt to fear death.

 

_Dean deserves to feel miserable._

 

Sam blinked. No, he didn’t really mean that. Did he? All these different emotions were making him feel like he didn't know anything about anything anymore, the ambivalence inside him tearing him in two, the dark part of him wanting to make his brother suffer just as Sam had suffered.

 

Then there was that other part, the part that felt Dean’s pain like it was his own, and his heart ached when he looked at his brother, so lost, so alone. Dean looked pale, thinner than a week ago, and when Sam looked deeper, with his new eyes, he suddenly flinched and stumbled few steps back like he had been hit in the face.

 

There was a dark glow surrounding Dean. His aura. Sam gasped. This had never happened before; he had never before been able to see people’s auras. The glow around Dean was dark and purple, the color of a fresh bruise, sore and throbbing and aching, and for a moment Sam wondered if _he_ had caused that, hurt Dean mentally so bad that now even his brother’s aura was injured and dark. 

 

Sam couldn’t take it anymore, his head hurt more and more the longer he looked at Dean, like the first times when he had started exorcising demons with his mind. He stumbled back into the night, turned around and ran, and his steps didn’t make a sound as he rushed over dead ground and dry, frozen leaves.

 

He ran and ran until he couldn’t feel Dean’s pain anymore, but it was still there. A phantom ache. Not as strong as when he had been so close to Dean, but still there, reminding him exactly how bad things were now. And he hated it.

 

He was out of breath, but not because of physical exhaustion. These days he could run over five miles without even breaking a sweat. No, he simply couldn’t breath because suddenly he was scared. It had been a week since he had changed, and every day he found out something new, some new ability, and he was afraid. He had no idea if the changing would go on, if it had stopped, or if it ever would. He had no idea if he was turning into a monster, and God, he would’ve wanted to talk to Dean, confess his fear and insecurity, pray Dean to tell him that everything would be alright, but he couldn’t. It was too soon, and on the other hand Sam was afraid that later it would simply be _too late_.

 

Maybe Dean would finally have to make good of his promise he had made to Dad and kill Sam.

 

Maybe he deserved to die. He was an anomaly, a freak, partly human, partly demon and now partly a werewolf too. He had never heard of a combination like that before, and he had no idea of what he was or what he would become.

 

Maybe he should go to Dean and ask him to put a silver bullet in his little brother’s heart. But somehow Sam had a feeling that no matter what, Dean wouldn’t do it. And Sam knew the exact reason why...

 

Damn Dean for loving him so much! And damn Sam for loving his brother at least as much, if not even more. Damn them both and their sick, dysfunctional love for each other...

 

*

 

Dean woke up in the middle of the night. It was not a sound that woke him; the room was silent as a grave. It was the presence, the stillness of the air, the realization that it was simply _too_ silent. Someone was in the room. Dean reached under his pillow by pure instinct, but before he could reach his bowie knife, he heard a calm voice from the dark.

 

“It’s not there.” The voice said. “I took it. Just a precaution.”

 

Dean’s heart beat faster. That voice. The voice he had craved to hear for days, ever since... “Sam?”

 

There was a moment of silence and then Sam’s voice again. It was silent and somehow blank. “Yeah. At least what’s left of me.”

 

“Don’t talk like that, Sam…” Dean said quietly, hurt growing inside him, an invisible knife carving up his insides. “You are my brother.” _And so much more…_ “And that will never change. Sam…” A tiny moment of hesitation. “Please let me see you.”

 

There was silence again, silence that seemed to go on and on and on before Sam finally spoke again. Just one word: “Okay.” Dean could almost hear Sam shrugging.

 

Dean steeled himself, prepared for golden eyes and every other possible changes that might have taken over Sam, and his hand shook slightly as he reached to the bedside lamp, hesitating there for a fraction of a second before flicking the switch. The room filled with soft orange glow.

 

Sam sat on a chair little farther, shadows covering his eyes. Dean looked at him, pain and joy mixing in his chest. He looked closer. “Sammy…” His voice was choked and full of emotion. Finally Sam looked up.

 

Sam’s eyes were not golden. They were the familiar hazel, the color Dean had memorized and knew all the way through. And Sam looked like he had always looked, like the past week had been only a bad dream and nothing had really changed. Sam was still beautiful.

 

“Why did you run?” Dean asked and Sam smiled a little, looking away and then looking back at Dean.

 

“I needed time.” He bit his lower lip. “I think you needed too.”

 

Dean sat up on the bed, a sheet covering his lower body, upper body bare. “I never wanted you to run away from me.”

 

“I didn’t run from you.” Sam’s voice was still a little blank. “I ran from myself.”

 

Dean's expression was a mixture of frustration and sadness. “Why?”

 

Sam laughed, and the sound of it was a little scary. It was bitter and joyless. “Why?” Sam asked. “Because I suddenly realized that I’m a whole new level of freak. I didn’t know what I was, I still don’t know. At least now after a little soul searching –if I even have one anymore –I know I could never hurt you. A week ago I wasn’t so sure about that. I had to isolate myself until I was sure.”

 

Dean swallowed, didn't know what to say, so the thing he asked next was the only thing he could. Rational, neutral. “So where were you?”

 

“Around.” Sam said and Dean knew that tone. Asking for more details would only make Sam close up into himself.

 

“I missed you.” Dean finally said after a long silence, and Sam laughed again.

 

“Missed me? Dean, I’m a monster.”

 

“No.” Dean said firmly and stood up, not caring about the sheet that fell around his ankles or about the fact that underneath it he was naked. “You’re not a monster. You’re mine, Sammy. _Mine_.” Dean walked to Sam and knelt in between his legs, looked at him sternly, refusing to turn his eyes away before Sam looked back. “And besides, you don’t look any different.”

 

Sam smiled slightly. “You mean the eyes? Yeah, well…” He sighed. “I can control them. Which is a blessing since with them… It’s like switching into a different level of seeing, and the things I see…” Sam licked his lips. “Let’s just say that I wish I didn’t have to see all of them.”

 

Dean frowned. “What do you see?”

 

Sam thought for a while before answering. “Pretenders.”

 

“I have no idea of what you’re talking about. Pretenders? Like the band? Sorry.” Dean shook his head like it would clear his head. “What the hell are those?”

 

Sam looked away for a moment, and it looked like he was thinking hard of how to explain.

 

“They’re people.” Sam finally said. “People with abilities. Most of them are not even aware of the abilities they have. Psychics –not like me –, sensers… They’re not so bad. Just humans. Like when you see a schizophrenic mumbling in the street, it might be just a psychic who hasn’t learn to block the voices out. The cacophony of thousand different thoughts of different people going through your head might be... a little too much sometimes…” Sam looked away again. “But then there are other things. Things that are not humans but pretend to be. I can see their true forms, Dean, and God, I wish I couldn’t.” Sam’s voice got more agitated, almost desperate. “There are things I’ve never seen, things that I didn’t even know existed. So many different things, wearing meatsuits like demons but they’re not demons…”

 

Dean didn’t know what to think. “So what are they?”

 

“I don’t know.” Sam whispered and sounded so helpless and fragile that once again Dean didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything, just waited for Sam to continue.

 

“I have no idea.” Sam finally said quietly. “But they’re there, in the dark. And there are other things… things I didn’t see before. This far I’ve seen a seraphim, a pyro and an ogre. Well, ogres are easy to spot even without heightened senses but somehow they manage to keep themselves hidden. But I can sense them. I can sense when there’s evil around.”

 

Dean was even more confused. “A seraphim… You mean like in the lore of some kind of ancient race of warrior angels?”

 

“Actually they’re more like supernatural healers. They’re not evil, but I’m not sure they’re entirely good either or for whom do they work for, if for anyone. They’re not demons but surely not angels either. But whatever they are, they’re powerful and even the meanest monsters seem to be afraid of them.”

 

“And ogres?” Dean couldn’t help but smirk. “So, are they like Shreck? Green and dumb and—“

 

“Far from it.” Sam said and there was no sign of amusement in his voice. “They’re mean, and I mean truly evil. They eat babies, Dean. And they eat their meals alive.”

 

Dean grimaced. That was one image he didn't want inside his head.

 

“You’re right about one thing though.” Sam continued. “They’re not exactly the sharpest tools in the shed, but trust me, what they lack in intelligence, they replace with rage and strength, and those they have. One almost killed me four days ago before I managed to kill it first.”

 

Dean’s eyes widened. “You’ve been hunting?” He didn't know if he was hurt or scared or worried or all of them.

 

Sam shrugged. “What else should I have done? I needed to feel like I’m still me, and hunting is the only thing that makes me feel I’m not completely evil.” 

 

So, Sam had killed an ogre. Dean didn’t really want to hear details of that kill, but in his mind he could see Sam moving gracefully like a wild animal circling its prey, golden eyes glowing. He really didn’t want to ask the next question, but he had to. “So, have you killed anything else?”

 

Dean could feel how Sam’s body went stiff, could feel the silent hurt radiating from him. “You mean have I killed humans.”

 

“No, Sam, I didn’t mean it like that…”

 

“Yeah you did.” Sam simply said and his tone held no arguments. “And the answer is no. I killed one pretender who had an ability to reach inside people’s minds and dig out information, like their credit card numbers and stuff like that.”

 

It was Dean’s time to stiffen. “Sam, _we_ do credit card scams.”

 

Sam smiled joylessly. “Yeah, but ours don’t have the side effect of killing the people we take advantage of. This guy? Didn’t stop until he had all the info dug out and his victims brain arteries exploded.”

 

“Oh…” was all Dean could say.

 

Seriously, what else he could have said?

 

*

 

Dean couldn’t sleep. His thoughts were a mess. He had asked, almost pleaded Sam to stay, but Sam had said he had things to do and left, and Dean couldn’t hold him back.

 

Dean wondered what Sam was doing right now. Was he hunting things in the dark, things they hadn’t even knew existed? Were his eyes glowing golden as he stalked his prey before going for the kill? Was he moving like a predator, circling and playing with his prey before finishing it? 

 

Sam _was_ a predator. Dean knew it now. His little brother had changed. He had said he hadn’t killed a human being, but when he had told about how he had killed the ogre, Dean saw a flash of gold in his little brother’s eyes. Dean couldn’t help the feeling that the biggest change in Sam was that now he enjoyed hunting, enjoyed the stalking and hiding in the shadows, and that was not like Sam who used to think killing things was the necessary evil, always questioning if they were doing the right thing and if the things they killed even were really evil and really deserved to die.

 

It was like Sam had defended the things they hunted, but now he killed without mercy.

 

When Dean finally fell asleep, he dreamed of Sam. Sam was standing on a dark alley, hiding in the shadows next to a filthy wall, covered with graffiti, and Dean could almost smell the stench of urine and rotting garbage. Then a figure appeared to the alley and Sam smiled and stepped out of the shadows. The thing looked a little surprised but not really scared. Not even when Sam’s eyes turned golden. The thing smiled back, like it recognized Sam and stepped closer. The smile died when Sam stepped closer as well, attacked the thing so fast that the creature didn’t have a chance to escape. Sam’s smile never faded as he whispered something into the creature’s ear, but Dean couldn’t hear the words. Then, with one smooth motion, Sam flicked open a silver switchblade and stabbed the thing straight into the heart, and when the knife was all the way inside, Sam twisted the blade, and the creature screamed. Sam was still smiling as he pulled the bloody knife out, stabbed his prey’s neck cutting the spinal cord, and the body fell useless down to the ground. Sam watched the lifeless corpse for a moment, then wiped the blade clean with the corpse’s jacket and left the alley. His eyes were back in their hazel color, but there was still something wild in them. Something uncontrollable. Something dangerous.

 

Dean woke up, body covered with cold sweat and his heart hammering in his chest so hard that for a moment he was afraid of having a heart attack.

 

*

 

In a town few dozen miles away Sam walked away from the alley where the lifeless corpse of a young werewolf lay between trashcans like a broken abandoned doll. He didn’t look back, and in few seconds the satisfaction of the kill was gone and he felt nothing at all.

 

*

 

“Heard of your brother yet?” Bobby asked when Dean dragged himself downstairs next morning. Bobby still didn’t know the truth. He thought Sam had left because he was angry after finding out what had been done to him, and Dean hadn’t corrected him. What could he say? Yeah, the monkshood shot had worked… partially. Bobby didn’t know that Sam had been there last night, and Dean didn’t know if his dream was just a dream, or if in some level he was connected to Sam so strongly he could see what his little brother was doing.

 

But why now? The whole week Sam had been gone Dean hadn’t even known if Sam was alive or where he was, and then suddenly he has this most vivid, most realistic dream ever, like he was standing on that same alley, watching Sam kill as easily as some people do grocery shopping and then walking away without even bothering to burn the body and hide the evidence?

 

Dean remembered how Sam had held the creature close to him, whispering in its ear, and in the dim light of the alley it had almost looked like they were lovers, embraced in tight caress, and when Dean thought of Sam as a lover, a sharp wave of arousal somewhere low in his abdomen almost made him bend in half and Bobby looked at him, worried.

 

“Kid, you alright?”

 

“Yeah…” Dean grunted. “I’m fine. Just…” Dean turned around and stumbled back upstairs because he was suddenly so hard it hurt. He went to the bathroom, almost tore his clothes off in his hurry to get naked, set the water temperature as hot as he could bear and stepped under the spray. In the shower he jerked off, hard and fast, one hand braced against the wall and head thrown back, and when he came, his brother’s name spilled out of his lips as his seed spilled in his hand.

 

*

 

The next night Dean woke up again, and this time he didn’t have to waste a thought for who was in the room with him. He could feel Sam, smell him, almost taste him.

 

“You came back.” Dean said quietly, not moving.

 

“I did.” Sam said from the dark, and he was closer now, sitting on the edge of Dean’s bed. “I had to see you.”

 

“It’s pitch dark.” Dean pointed out. Sam smiled. Dean couldn’t see it but he knew Sam was smiling.

 

“I can still see you.”

 

Dean was silent for a long time. “Did you kill it?” He finally asked. “Last night?”

 

“Yes.” Sam simply answered. 

 

“What was it?” 

 

“A newborn werewolf.” Dean knew Sam was smiling again. “Was so happy to see me too. One of his own kind. Too bad he was wrong about that.”

 

Dean was silent for a long time again. “What are you?” He asked when the silence had continued for few minutes. “Just what are you now, Sam?”

 

“I’m your brother, remember?” Dean could hear Sam wasn’t smiling anymore. “I’m yours.”

 

Those words triggered something inside of Dean and he grabbed Sam in the dark and forced his little brother on his back on the mattress. “You little piece of shit…” Dean growled. “Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was about you??”

 

“Easy…” Sam whispered. “You’ll wake up Bobby.”

 

“Fuck you.” Dean growled and then his mouth was on Sam’s, and the whimper that escaped from Sam’s throat was so familiar, so _Sam_ , that it ripped off the last remains of Dean’s self-control. He tore Sam’s clothes off, kissed him brutally, bit him hard enough to draw blood and clawed his skin, leaving red marks all over Sam’s body. He simply couldn’t get enough of Sam, and when Sam was completely naked, Dean let out another guttural growl and tore his own clothes off, forced Sam on his stomach and attacked his ass, pushed his tongue inside Sam’s tight hole and Sam gasped for air. Dean ate him out, pushed a finger inside along with his tongue and Sam bit the pillow to prevent himself from screaming. This was wild, this was bestial, and it was everything Sam wanted and more. 

 

Dean grabbed Sam’s hips and forced his ass up, his hands were rough and unforgiving, and so was the first thrust as Dean sank inside of Sam to the root, and Sam had to bite the pillow until Dean pulled out and thrust inside again, and this time Sam’s back arched and he threw his head back but no sound came out, just a silent scream as Dean ravaged his body, drove fast and hard and deep, and Sam had lost his voice, he had lost himself, he was a part of Dean and Dean was a part of him and it was perfect.

 

_My mate_ , the wolf inside him whispered and Sam closed his eyes, his mouth open and his body rocking back and forth with the force of Dean’s thrusts and he didn’t even have to touch his own cock because his mate was giving him all he needed, and he came with a full body shudder and a muffled cry.

 

A moment after that Dean went still, stopped breathing for a second, his body spasming as he spilled inside of Sam, hips jerking as he gasped for air and finally when the spasms subsided, he bent down against Sam’s back and hugged him from behind, moved them so that he was spooning Sam from behind, still buried inside him. Dean held him close and kissed the curve where Sam’s neck met his shoulder.

 

“You were right about one thing.” Dean whispered. “You are mine.”

 

“Always.” Sam confirmed and closed his eyes.

 

*

 

“I see you boys kissed and made up.” 

 

Sam opened his eyes, and for a moment he was terrified because it was Bobby, standing on the door and looking at them, and Sam had had no intentions of staying till morning, he had planned of leaving in the middle of the night but Dean’s presence had been so comforting he hadn’t even realized that he had fallen asleep. Dean just mumbled something in his sleep and tightened his hold around Sam, and Sam was grateful for the sheet that covered them from the waist down.

 

“Good to see you, Sam.” Bobby finally said. “We were worried about you. There’s breakfast in the kitchen if you’re hungry.” Before he turned to leave he looked at Sam one more time. “I really mean it, it’s good to see you kid. Welcome back.”

 

Sam closed his eyes again when Bobby left. _You have no idea, Bobby. I’m not back, and I never will be. I’m simply not me anymore._

 

“Stop thinking so loud…” Dean muttered. “It’s disturbing my sleep.”

 

“Good morning for you too.” Sam retorted and smacked Dean upside the head before kissing him so passionately it took another thirty minutes before they actually managed to get up and go downstairs for breakfast. Bobby gave them a knowing look but didn’t say anything.

 

*

 

The thing was, that Bobby still wasn’t sure of what he should think of Sam and Dean’s relationship. But as he watched those two on the breakfast table, bickering and teasing, touching each other when they thought Bobby didn’t see, he realized that even though the boys were brothers, the idea of them being lovers didn’t make him feel disgusted.

 

In some level Bobby had always known that the bond that the brothers shared was something he couldn’t explain. Probably no one could. The thing was, that without Sam there was no Dean, and without Dean there was no Sam. Without each other they were incomplete, but when they were together…

 

Bobby knew that love crossed all boundaries, and finding true love was so rare that when it happened, it was something that had to be held on. Even if the love was not socially accepted and illegal in all fifty states.

 

The most important thing was, that when Bobby looked at the boys, all he could see was love and affection, and for the first time he could actually admit to himself that no matter how wrong it may be in the eyes of others, Bobby couldn’t judge them. Not when he finally saw the truth, and the truth was that those two were made for each other, like two pieces of a puzzle that fit so perfectly together that it would’ve been cruel and insane to try and separate them.

 

*

 

“I wanna come with you.” Dean said the next day.

 

Sam smirked. “Again? Just yesterday we—“

 

“No, Sam.” Dean was serious. “I want to come with you the next time you go hunting.”

 

Sam looked away and licked his lips. Finally he looked back at Dean and there were no excuses in his voice, just the honest truth. “I’m not sure you’re ready for that.”

 

“Sam, I was hunting when you were still playing with action figures.” 

 

“That’s not what I mean…” Sam sighed. “What I mean is that these things are something you have never hunted before. And I’m scared that you’ll see their true form and freak out.” Too late Sam realized what he had just said.

 

Dean’s expression was unreadable. “What do you mean, ‘see their true form’? You see them, I don’t. Just tell me who to shoot or stab and it’ll go just fine, ‘kay?” 

 

“They’re mean.”

 

Dean shrugged. “So am I.”

 

*

 

After a lot of arguing, reasoning and plain fighting Sam finally agreed to take Dean with him. Sam knew he had to take this easy, find a simple prey, but he was still scared. The connection between them was so strong, that Sam feared the worst. But he had to assure himself that his fears were groundless to keep himself calm. He had to keep his wits, just in case something went wrong. He had to be strong, for Dean.

 

When the darkness fell, they left, drove to the city and parked the car few blocks away from where Sam had sensed a Pretender. 

 

“It’s a pyro. “ Sam said and closed his eyes, concentrated. “Not very strong. They use their hosts until they destroy them and then find another one, and this one is looking for a new host.” Sam opened his eyes, “Should be an easy kill.”

 

“Well, let’s go then.”

 

Dean walked few steps ahead of him, and Sam saw his aura. It was not the color of a bruise anymore; instead it was flaming red. Excitement. Or rage. Sam hoped it was the first one. Rage numbed senses, made you vulnerable and careless. Sam had learned that with Pretenders the most important thing was to keep cool. If it was an older werewolf, wait for it to make the first move and anticipate their next one. Newly born ones were easier. With ogres, go straight for the kill, attack first and do it fast, because even though ogres were slow, they were strong as hell and they only needed one change to grab you, and that meant almost without exceptions a certain death.

 

Sam saw the pyro standing on the street, looking around, eyes scanning its surroundings to find a new meatsuit. But he didn’t see the young man who’s body the Pretender had invaded. He saw its true form. Its skin was red and blistered, thick smoke rising from it. 

 

“That’s it.” Sam said quietly to Dean. “That’s a pyro.” He looked at Dean and it felt like his blood turned to ice in his veins. Dean looked like he was frozen where he stood, eyes wide, glued to the Pretender.

 

“I see it.” Dean whispered. “I _see_ it.”

 

Sam closed his eyes. _Oh God, no…_ He opened his eyes and his voice was blank as he whispered: “Dean, calm down.”

 

“I shouldn’t see it.” Dean kept repeating. “Why am I seeing it?”

 

“Dean!”

 

The pyro had sensed them. It turned around, its mouth opened and in the eyes of others it might looked like a young irritated man instead of the outraged burning corpse it really was, and the sound that came from its mouth might came out as something like ‘stop following me’, when it was actually shrieking, the sound like broken glass and cat claws against a chalkboard. 

 

Dean flinched at the sound and then it was like he was waking up from a dream as his body moved. Sam knew he was yelling Dean’s name but didn’t hear it, it was like he was underwater and everything moved too slow, everything was stiff and fluid at the same time, going on slow-motion. Muffled. 

 

The pyro prepared itself for an attack. Too late. Dean was already there, growling and throwing a punch against its jaw. The creature stumbled back, then raised its arm to block another punch that didn’t come because Dean had already moved behind it and slit its throat open with one strong move. 

 

Sam watched. He was relieved and terrified. In the darkness of night cold met warm as silver met blood. The body twitched on the ground, and Sam walked to it and to his brother, holding out his hand.

 

“I’ll finish it.”

 

Dean didn’t reply, didn’t even look at him as he gave Sam the knife and Sam took it, swallowed and did what had to be done. One stab to the neck cut the spinal cord and the creature was dead. Sam didn’t know why, but it seemed to kill them. Just like in zombie movies the zombies die when you shoot them in the head but no one asks why. Same thing, only much too real. 

 

Dean was waiting in the car when Sam got there, still not looking at him, and Sam let him be. After a moment of silent driving Dean’s voice broke the silence with one word: “Explain.” 

 

Sam closed his eyes, took a deep breath. Dreams and nightmares, all things said and done… Nothing could have changed this, could it? 

 

“Welcome to the Real World.” Sam said quietly and knew the exact moment where everything had gone spectacularly wrong.

 

*

 

“What are you trying to say, Sam?” Dean asked incredulously. “So you… infected me?” He had stopped the car after realizing that maybe he shouldn’t be driving in his state of mind. 

 

“I bit you.” Sam said and stared at the empty road ahead of them, afraid to meet Dean’s eyes. “I bit you. The first time after we… when you brought me back from the cellar and we… I bit you.”

 

Silence.

 

“Sammy, that was a love bite.” Dean tried to laugh but Sam heard how forced it was. “It wasn’t a werewolf bite.”

 

“Because I’m not a werewolf.” Sam tried to keep his thoughts together even when it felt like his world was spiraling down and drowning in nightmares. “But it was me.”

 

“And what are you?” Dean asked, sounding tired. Sam looked up into the sky.

 

“I have no idea. Some kind of human, demon, werewolf hybrid?”

 

“Well, as far as I know I don’t have any demon blood in me, so what the hell?”

 

“I really don’t know, Dean.”

 

Dean was quiet for a while. Then he shrugged. “Let’s go back to Bobby’s. It’s getting cold.”

 

Sam didn’t disagree, so Dean started the car, feeling somewhat calmer now, and they drove back to the junkyard in silence.

 

TBC...


End file.
